In A Fortress Of Pine Trees
by Mistofstars
Summary: Future!Dean / Future!Castiel "Cas", he finally exhales. "I could need one of your amazing hippie massages right now" -it starts with a simple massage and ends somewhere else; Dean gives in to long neglected needs...


Author: Mistofstars

Pairing: Future Dean / Future Castiel (2014 versions as shown in 5x04)

Author's notes: The title of this is from lyrics of the song "Look away" by Lissie, who's absolutely awesome! It doesn't refer much to the story though... just very spanning so to say.

Warnings: Angst, Smut, Bottom!Dean (what the hell), kind of PWP (though I started with a plot, but I lost it along the way I guess *sniffles*), a bit Sap, SPOILERS for episode 5x04

Rating: M, I've lost control of my life

**In A Fortress Of Pine Trees**

The sun has almost disappeared beyond the fine line of the horizon. There's a gloomy, brooding silence in the surrounding forest; the air is spicy and cold, thick layers of snow cover the ground. Dean stands outside under a pine tree, his hands in the pockets of his jeans. He sees the little white cloud of his breath as it meets the freezing air. His eyes are enlightened by the last rays of faint sunlight, and there's a warmth in their gaze that's heartfelt. A distant smile hushes over his lips; he observes Cas in his cot, how he lights a few candles against the oncoming dark, and some joss sticks he's grown quite fond of. There's a calmness in the movements of this broken man – _angel_ Dean reminds himself – that reassures Dean to the deepest core of his heart. If Castiel manages to stay calm and patient after all he's been through, and all the things he still has to struggle with, then Dean can find the confidence to do the same.

Cas looks up suddenly and sees Dean standing outside, a few feet away from his domicile, looking at him. Dean is sure he has felt his presence; he still has some weird abilities. For a few moments they stare at each other and Dean feels frozen on the spot, all his insides tumble over each other. His heart beats slowly and violently in his chest, something flickers in his mind. He exhales a sigh of longing as he drowns in the overwhelming sight of Cas. He's the only one on this earth who's still able to make him feel this way, who makes him feel _anything _but grief, despair and sorrow. He recognizes the idea of an honest, loveable smile even from the distance, as it graces Castiel's soft pink lips. There's no bitter irony or sarcasm in it, the way it usually looks like, rather tranquility and understanding and _love__._ Dean feels a comforting warmth taking over his body and there's not much thinking now as he takes the few steps leading to Castiel's cot.

He wants to knock against the heavy wooden door that prevents the cold from entering the rooms, but it is opened before he can do so. Castiel just stands there in front of him, not a smile on his mouth, no expectations in his eyes – he's just there, waiting, and curious what Dean wants from him, and Dean appreciates that he's not trying to push him _(All others are always so demanding, constantly wanting things and commands and solutions from him, since he's their leader. It's nice to face someone who awaits __his__ words and who's concerned about __his__ wishes for a change),_ The moment Dean smiles at him tenderly melts the ice though, and again Dean can detect the steady serenity in Cas' features, that's approximately the closest thing to his kind of happiness.

Without a word Castiel opens the door further and lets him inside, closing the door quietly behind him. In the cot it isn't exactly warm since there are no heaters and the fireplaces are rarely used, but it's warm enough to relax Dean's limbs, and he opens the zipper of his military fatigue green jacket. Then he gathers the courage to meet Cas' wonderful blue eyes, feeling the internal fire that's enlightened in his gaze. As always he's got the sense he can barely breathe, Cas' sublime eyes burn directly into his heart.

"Cas", he finally exhales. "I could need one of your amazing hippie massages right now", he states, and it's the truth. He has stinging aches all over his back for weeks now, to a point at which he can no longer ignore them. Cas blinks soothingly and slowly at him, a little smirk (not unfriendly, though) catching his lips. He nods into the direction of his bed and says "Come", and Dean follows him with hesitant steps.

The bedroom strongly smells of opium joss sticks, and tiny gray lines of smoke waft through the air. Dean deeply inhales the scent and feels intoxication and rest coming to life in his chest. He assumes it's similar to the feeling religious people get when they enter a church filed with incense. Outside the early evening has overthrown the sunlight, the first stars twinkle in the pale blue. The candles give some cozy orange light – Dean feels safe and home to a certain degree, and he hasn't felt that way for a long time now. He hears Castiel's low voice behind him and it gives him goosebumps when he notices his warm hand on his shoulder blade.

"Take of your shirt and lay down."

Dean does as wished and struggles out of his jacket and his warm sweatshirt, leaving both on the edge of the bed. It's a bit cold but he's gotten used to suffer worse hardships. He looks up to Cas and catches him examining his unclothed torso absentmindedly – perhaps he's lost in thoughts of the past, when this wasn't an unusual sight for his eyes, when he could look his fill like this on a daily basis, and when the brush of his naked skin against Dean's wasn't rare and final. Meanwhile Cas has learned to hide his thoughts better and to dissemble his feelings, so Dean is not surprised when Castiel looks at him unemotionally, then turns around to fetch the massage oil he's keeping well hidden. However, Castiel hasn't learned to ban the hurt out of his voice, and Dean knows why he's not uttering a single word now – the pain within them would crush them both.

Dean tries to fight off every thought and sentiment when he's lying down on his stomach upon the embroidered coverlet of Cas' bed; he pillows his right cheek on his forearm. From the corner of his eyes he sees Castiel approaching him, and he feels the bed sink in where he's kneeling behind him. Dean spreads his legs a bit so that Cas can slip behind him. His hair stands on end as he anticipates Cas' touch on his bare back, eagerly awaiting the magic his fingers are capable of. When he perceives his warm hands slathering his back with the oil it's like thunder and lightning inside him at first. Each touch electrifies him, each soft rub of the palms of Cas' clever hands creates a rumble inside Dean's chest; for a while all he can do is lay there, trying to steady his tightened breathing. Just to feel those caress-like touches of Cas is almost too much for Dean. He can barely keep himself from arching his back up against those working hands, his body feels completely tense.

Then Cas' hands wander to his shoulders and start massaging him there first. Little by little Dean allows himself to relax and to enjoy this and soon the tenseness vanishes from his body. Cas is using just enough force to slack off his muscles, pressing the right points with slow pressure. Dean's becoming a mess. He can't stop himself voicing incoherent noises, he moans appreciatively, and sighs and writhes under Cas' oil-slick fingers. Sometimes he's able to listen to himself and then he hears himself mutter things like "Oh, oh that's great, yeah... right there" and he could get off from the rough sound of his voice right there – because it sounds so desperate, filled with need and close to aroused madness. Cas sure knows what he's doing is beyond a simple massage, and Dean wonders if he knows Dean's having a massive bulk in his pants now.

He feels Cas' hands slide down to his ribs and he continues to knead his flesh there. Dean's completely relaxed by now, the backache has been replaced with warmth and relieved muscles. He knows Cas could stop at this moment, because the deed is done, but Dean doesn't want him to, so he's not saying anything. From the way Castiel touches him Dean assumes he doesn't want this moment to end either. He keeps his eyes shut and savors Cas' fondlings, how his fingertips trace the line of his spine with ghostlike cautiousness, up and down time and again. He listens to the heavy gale swooshing through the huge pine trees outside, it's a constant static in his ears. He feels he'll get carried away soon, this moment seems so surreal. In here, there's no more pain, no danger, no fear. There's only him and Cas, and it's all that's important for the nonce. He wishes it could always be this way.

Then there are Cas' arms coming around his hips, sliding underneath his bare abdomen and above the warm sheets. Dean feels Castiel's body warmth right over his back and his hot breath fanning against his neck as he leans over Dean. There is a tender kiss pressed into the crook of his neck and he can't help lean his head against those fine lips, while Cas' fingers crawl to the button and zipper of his jeans; he lifts his ass so that Cas can open it easier and bumps against Cas' crotch, feeling his immense rock-hard cock pressing against him. Dean's heart skips a beat and he exhales nervously when one of Cas' hands opens his jeans skillfully, while the other grabs his hipbone aggressively to drag him back against his clothed erection.

Dean lifts himself up to his knees and hands and Castiel's arms surround him, hold him tightly against him, heat spreading between their bodies. Dean shudders and his voice wavers tremendously when he exhales a hoarse "Fuck me, Cas" before he almost chokes on his own breaths. He feels Castiel's hesitation as he stops each single movement, then he feels him withdraw and stand up. Confused Dean turns around on his back and sees Castiel standing in front of him, but he's just bending down to untie Dean's boots with the same calmness he displays daily, and a tender smile seizes Dean's corners of the mouth; Castiel responds to the mellow gaze of Dean with his own. The boots fall to the ground with a thump, then Cas pulls down Dean's jeans and boxers quite pragmatically and without making a great stir of it. It's the moment when Dean's lying naked in front of him though that something's _changing_ in Cas' eyes; Dean feels incredibly beautiful and precious when Castiel's blue irises observe him like this, studying him from head to toe, and the former angel no longer smiles, his face looks rather distressed. In the blink of an eye this feelings seems to be gone or hidden though, because Castiel's face returns to the nonchalant mask he always wears these days. Dean assumes it's a habit of self protection.

He watches as Castiel undresses himself in the faint flickering candle light, slowly moving the tunic over his head, revealing his taut yet emaciated upper body. His arms and his pectoral muscle are nothing but firm sinewy muscles, steeled from the years of horror and renunciations. He is still a warrior, Dean thinks, yet not of God any longer, but for him, to whatever end. The need to touch and to be touched grows too big, Dean realizes, when Castiel strips off the rest of his clothes quickly, but he's not getting impatient, therefore he's too controlled. Dean appreciates the sight of Castiel's naked body, he's still beautiful and admirable, and Dean has laid his heart to his feet a long time ago and Cas has still not handed it back to him. Before he can allow these thoughts to invade his mind further, he lays down on his stomach again, a clear unspoken invitation for Cas. He needs to be fucked and he needs it _rough_ and unemotional and wild.

He hears Cas' fumbling for the oil again and soon thereafter he feels a slick forefinger searching for his entrance. He's glad Cas is cutting to the chase without any more ado, that would just involve matters of the heart; he senses Castiel pushing his finger slowly inside of him, and he arches his back and presses his ass down to meet his finger. It burns delightfully and sensually, and Dean feels he needs to be filled with Cas to remove all bad things gnawing on him. He lets his head hang down, hearing himself moan as Cas moves his finger inside him in small circles, reaching deeper, stretching him further.

Dean grabs a fistful of the blanket when Cas adds a second finger, circling them both. He's panting, trying to stop it when he bites into the pillow, as Castiel shoves a third finger completely inside his hole. He's starting to see stars and his head is spinning. It feels incredible, so hot and tight, and yet there is still pain, but Dean likes it rough. Then Cas' fingers find his sensitive weak spot, and spasms and hot waves overrun him, and his knees give way as he hears himself moaning loudly; his face falls into the pillow, his body lays flat on the bed. Dean stutters irrelevant words when Castiel's fingers squeeze his prostate _firmer_, he's gasping and sighing, unable to decide whether he wants to move against Castiel or away. He feels unsatisfied though when Cas removes his fingers, kind of empty and unfulfilled.

He hears Castiel stroking and slathering his cock with oil as the smacking noise fills the room. He's having trouble breathing when he hears Cas' soft quiet moans as he's touching himself, and Dean can imagine the sight perfectly without even turning around: Castiel looking at his bare ass, ready to fuck him senseless, his hard cock twitching with anticipation as it wants to move inside him. Just the thought of it drives Dean mad and he grumbles an impatient "Get on with it, will you", whereupon he hears Cas' throaty laugh. He's about to get angry but then he feels Castiel's hands _harshly_ tearing his cheeks apart as he slips in between with his slippery throbbing dick, aiming perfectly for his entrance, shoving himself inside with slow lustful strokes.

Dean's losing it right there as he takes Cas inside him. He moves his ass upwards and Castiel's hands frame his hips as he pushes himself in as deep as possibly. Dean feels like he's suffocating, no air wants to enter his lungs, and his heartbeat is a desperate throbbing; he gulps hard when Castiel's fingernails dig into his skin and he starts fucking him slowly and forcefully. Lust overtakes Dean and he squirms and _whimpers_ and moans as Cas gives it to him. Castiel's noises of passion seem to touch Dean's weak spot on their own and everything tickles and twinges inside of him and Dean feels stimulated abundantly.

But then Castiel does something that shakes Dean to the deepest foundations of his heart, and he's afraid and feels too vulnerable – one hand detaches from his hip and starts stroking his back, moving upwards, and Castiel's fingers ruffle tenderly through Dean's blonde hair, twisting strands in his fingers. It's such a little gesture, but it's fondly and it means so much to Dean that he's kind of panicking. Castiel's fingers wander over Dean's body, stroking every millimeter of his skin with feather-light touches, and he's not _fucking_ him any longer, he's _making love_ to him, pushing slowly and sensually into him, and Dean feels like he's breaking.

It feels better, though, but it feels_too_ good – it's just more than he can handle. He feels as if he's on the verge of breaking into tears and his voice sounds chocked as he whispers "Don't go gentle on me, Cas..."

But Cas is not having any of Dean's protests – instead he's leaning over him, kissing his back of the neck gently. Dean's head is moving against Cas' lips again, unable to deny the tenderness Cas is giving to him. So the former angel allows himself to trace kisses all over Dean's back, wherever he's able to reach, and a free hand moves to Dean's neglected erection, starting to pump it with a tight grip. Dean's feeling aroused, confused, and worst of all – _loved_ – as Castiel gives him senses that are unendurable and close to an inner calamity. It's the moment Cas sighs Dean's name with so much passion and agony, speaking volumes of Cas' heart and love for Dean, that Dean's breaking down into tears. He's silently crying as he's coming so hard he almost passes out, and he can't calm himself when he feels Cas coming vehemently in him, too, grasping his hips as he rides out his orgasm.

Then Castiel falls down on his body, and both of them are wet through with perspiration, both of them are panting and trembling in the aftermath. Dean's still trying to figure out what the hell is going on with him – he's just had a massive mind-blowing orgasm and his dick feels sore and his ass is still twitching with pleasure inside, but his heart is a broken mess and it's bleeding and making him sick. He notices Cas pulling out of him slowly with a quiet grunt, then he's lying down next to him. He doesn't have to open his eyes, he feels Cas' worried eyes on him either way. S

He does open them though when notices warm fingertips tracing the trail of his tears, carefully wiping them away. He sees Castiel's tear-stained eyes and realizes the extent of his own distress, guilt overwhelming him. He's put Castiel on this cursed path, and the damn idiot decided to stand by his side until the end. To love him, even when he doesn't deserve it. Dean feels his eyes water again and he hates himself for allowing this weakness to take over him. Castiel's hand touches Dean's pale cheek and he moves closer to kiss him slowly and affectionately, and Dean knows he can't ignore the longing of his heart, so he gives in and responds with everything he's got.

When they part, forehead to forehead, Dean is even able to smile, and to forgive himself and Cas for making love to him. It's just what happens these days, not every plan is working out perfectly, and sometimes you have to submit to your true needs. So when Cas' quavering voice offers him a simple _painful_ "I'm sorry", he shrugs it off with a little smile and exhales an heartfelt "I love you" that's relaxing his insides immensely. Cas' eyes widen and then he drowns in the smile he's seeing on Dean's sinful mouth, because his smiles have become so rare, and he enjoys it. And when they kiss again, he's smiling too. They part and Cas whispers "I love you" back, and Dean's _happy_.

Castiel wraps him up in his arms and holds him tightly, and a few moments of silent contentment pass. Cas is doing this thing again, stroking through the hair of Dean's back of the head, but this time Dean's sighing pleased. He's almost falling asleep, when he hears Castiel speaking to him.

"The time is near, Dean. Soon all will be over. You can rest then", he says soothingly and Dean comprehends his words immediately – Cas is referring to the end, to his oncoming encounter with Lucifer, and maybe to their certain deaths. And Dean is grateful and he smiles. He imagines what it's like to be dead and to be in Heaven, if he ever gets there, and the thought is something he finds solace in.

...

When Dean dies as the bones of his neck crack, and with Lucifer's feet on his throat, thousands of memories rush through his mind within the last seconds of his presence – he sees his life passing before his mind's eye, and there are memories of Sam, and his Dad and Mom, all his beloved ones. So many bad memories but so many happy ones, and he sees them all laughing and he's laughing too, and then he sees Castiel in bed with him on that stormy winter night, and he sees the love the former angel is feeling for him mirroring in his eyes, and Dean sees himself smiling at Castiel; then he dies with a smile on his face.

A frigging smile.

**THE END**

God, what did I do. I have no idea what I did. I hope you enjoyed it though, nervous laugh.


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